Genitalia are so amorphous;
They have no chance at heart or conscience.
Identifying characteristics; maybe,
But who spends time studying such a thing?

They are only the messenger;
First at knowing ecstasy,
Last to realize abandonment,
The body's inherently secret code
Attempting to speak the rhythms
Of everyman's language:
Bitmap of the soul's holiest desires.

They can't diagnose trouble,
Or predict rejection:
They are only the saddle upon an unbroken horse;
And wildness all that ever breathes,
Through it's foaming nostrils.

And what is desire, but the body's own fire?

I remember
(as though it were yesterday,
though it was far longer ago) -
He was clean shaven
with sparkling hazel eyes
and far more worldly than I.

He remembers
(when pressed)
I wore a skirt
that was just barely too short
and my legs shook from cold
as we talked.

I remember
(better on some days than others)
his love for alternative rock
and his fascination
with rebelling quietly
against social norms.
He liked to cook,
he told me -
The Anarchist Cookbook -
and laughed.

He remembers
(without hesitation)
the way my eyes
softened just before
our lips first touched
and how my hair
in the breeze
caught the fading sunlight.

I remember
(without fail)
the late night screams
in frustration of his
hatred of gender bias
and his inability to ever
not be brutally
honest.

He remembers
(with distinct pleasure)
the mid-day screams
of passion
and the feeling
of my skin against his;
my breath on his cheek.

I envy
the way he can
focus
on remembering
only the good;
albeit none of the
substance.

Your smile
tastes of mint smoke.
It’s refreshing
against the taste of my tears
and the drink you gave me
to stop them.
Your eyes
trace their way down
my body
seeing
knowing
touching
every little sweet spot
long forgotten.
Your hands
melt into mine;
a connection revisited.
And for a moment
I see in your gaze
that (love lust longing) we shared.
I blink
and it is gone
in the moonlight
and blinking light
from your clock.
So I close my eyes
and let the smell of tobacco
in your hair
and the smile against my lips
bring me
to a dark connection
I know far too well.
We can be together.
Just one more time.
Just for tonight.

Imperfections;
They makes us who we are.